Pokemon Mystery dungeon Rescue Team Friendship
by wolfboydude52
Summary: A lonely bulbasaur wishes to jirachi for friends and he gets some. However, these friends were humans, who are now in way over there heads. Worse, the bulbasaur asks them to make a rescue team with him. Trapped in the strange bodies of beings called Pokemon, they are forced to accept and learn about what makes a true friend. Co-author with misterbland1. T for swearing and violence.
1. Chapter 1 Deadly storms

This is a work with me (wolfboydude52) and misterbland1. He added details, while I wrote the story. The fancy words and

details are his, but I wrote the basic plot. We each did half of the work (Though, he added more than twice the words that

were in the fiction to begin with.) Chapter three is written, and he did give it less of a touch up than this, because it's more

detailed.

/

Chapter 1

It was a warm august day. Two friends were watching T.V in their college dorm.

"You really need to clean your side of the room." One said to the other. He moved his hand towards a gross object to pick it up, but reconsiders and pulls it away

quickly.

"Yuck. I don't even know what this used to be!" The other gave a single nod. "It's one of the bread sticks that came with the pizza last week. You were saving

for it later, remember?" Bland responded, laughing in his mind at the disgusting sight and his roomate's inabillity to have a clean room. "Uh, yeah, right. Hey,

bland, can you change it to the weather channel?" The other asked. "I was planning on handing it over anyway," Bland said as he changed it to the weather

channel. The newscaster giving the report wore a concerned expression typical of the intense red patch that was about to move over their small college. "God, I

wish this room had some windows. Want to go out storm chasing? We could go down to the cafe- it's open because of finals (which we haven't studied for)." The

other sighed, but nodded in agreement. "Sure, but it isn't storm chasing if all we're doing is sitting in a safe room and watching it." Bland smiled. "Then let's go

for a drive in the van. It's about half the weight of a typical stormchasing vehicle... and this is half the storm they typically go into... come on Dude, we won't get

hurt. Promise." "Being as rash as ever," Dude told Bland, but he had already conceded in his mind that it was a lot better than cleaning up rotten bread sticks.

They looked for their coats. Bland found his on the floor and dude found his underneath a mountain of dirty clothes. He caught a lucky break by finding the keys

as well, neatly placed between a jacket and a T-shirt. He put on the coat which made him gag at the smell. Better smelly than sick; with finals on the horizon,

either of them getting sick would cause them to fail their classes. "Come on!" Bland yelled, wanting to get to the van. "It's cold!" "Coming." Dude said back,

rolling his green eyes. Dude was laughing silently at his friends comment. "It's cold. Heh, it's actually fourty five." He lifted the brim of the coat over his head as

he ran to the front door of the van. Bland did not even attempt an offer to drive. It was bad enough that his permit didn't 'permit' him to drive around with Dude

in the first place. There was no need to get driving

experience during a storm. He slapped his hands on the dash, excited. "This storm will be awesome!" Dude could only laugh at his friend's fervor and start-up

the car, slowly pulling out onto the already wet driveway. In the rural land surrounding their college, there were only straight roads- no obstructions. Bland

thought. "How rough do you think it will get?" As Dude drove off of the college roads and into a lane heading towards town, he looked out the window. The

winds were picking up and rain started cascading down faster than before. They would be soaked even in their coats, if they got out now. But being inside the

van, the storm was neatly soundproofed, and made the two feel invincible. The rain falling and tapping made an almost relaxing sound, but they were to excited

to be relaxed. "Hey Bland, you should try driving in this," Dude suggested. The previously excited Bland turned slightly pale. "You know, that may not

be..." he squirmed under the pressure of wimping out, assuring himself that nothing was going to happen. "Okay, fine. Don't know why it matters, but what the

hell. Move over." Dude stopped the van and moved it over to the side of the road, and they switched seats from inside the van. With nervous hands and a right

foot, Bland slowly got into the lane again, moving at an easy pace. "Come on, Bland, our eighty year old history teacher could chase a storm better than you in

her hoveround. Half the storm they usually go in, right?" "Your eyes match the color of the bread stick." Bland said. "Didn't you hear me?" Dude asked. Bland

sighed, and said "I heard you." The van revved as Bland eased his weight onto the gas. The sensation of an inexperienced driver slowly picking up speed in the

middle of a storm was invigorating to Dude. "Faster! Just push it all the way down, there's no cops!" He took a deep breath, and pushed it all the way in. With a

strong tailwind assisting them, the van managed a spectacular 130 miles per hour, far more than it was probably ever built to do. is the two relaxed into seeing

the stormy features on the sides of the road whiz by, Bland finally relaxed, accustomed to the speed. "What do you know," he said confidently, "this is not too

bad-" Even the soundproofing of their van could not stop the deafening crack of thunder, and they both had to hold an arm over their eyes at lightening

smashed into the ground a little ways in front of them. Even so they were at least twenty meters back, debris from the collision smacked their van, cracking the

windows and denting the sides. "Holy sh- Bland, don't stop! If you try to stop we'll hydroplane right off the road!" But Dude said this too late. Bland instinctively

pulled the emergency break, sending their van into a skid. The van flipped immediately from the combination of speed and wet road. When they struck the

crater that would send them and their vehicle flying off into a nearby billboard, Dude could only think how bad of a choice it was to let Bland drive. And Bland

could only marvel at how odd it was that a lightning strike made a crater in the ground.

/

I fixed the chapter, it should be spaced better now.


	2. Chapter 2 Random tests

This is going to change views every chapter, from bland's to dude's view. That's so we can have some fun. The next chapter will be in dude's P.O.V

/

I felt someone jabbing my side, demanding that I wake up. The harassment reminded me of what usually happens when Dude wakes up first. So for a

quick second, thoughts about finals and finally studying filled my mind. And then I realized I couldn't open my eyes. Slowly but surely, I was sorely

reminded of our situation. "I'm up!" I snapped at bland. He wanted to see what we could remember, so I responded, "I remember a big flash." It was a

greedy move; something in me hoped he had forgotten that I crashed the van due to my inexperience. "Me too, I remember the storm, and some

driving... and crashing..." He responded. I listened closely, trying to figure out where we were. Every moment of silence mortified me; the lack of

beeping, the lack of someone coming in and comforting us, the lack of the smell of sterilized fabric... we weren't in the E.C.U. And even if I was

mistaken on that part, we still would not be in the same room. "Bland, I think we're dead." He concluded for me. I couldn't believe it. I had gotten us

killed. In the silence, I couldn't find much else to be other than morbidly entertained, maybe even curious. "Well, if we're dead, death hurts. And it is a

little boring. Want to play a game of _would you rather?_ You go first," I joked. It was a bad joke, and I knew it the moment I said it. He responded,

"would you rather quit joking around or become the first postmortem comedian?" Although being sure was hard, I felt that some movement was

coming back to me. Maybe, I hoped, the dawn was just coming, and there were no cars on the road to spot us yet. Or maybe they couldn't get to us,

due to the storm. "Well, what else do we remember?" He continued. "I remember that you needing to clean your side of the room... saved bread

sticks..." I become uncomfortable and a little shocked; it was as if I popped into existence a few days ago. Confirming that I had a dorm, that I had

gone through high school, and even that I had a _mother_ became a challenge. "I can remember that we were watching TV, the weather channel, but

other than that, I can't remember anything," He said. "...Me, too." I told him slowly, still hesitant about my role in the accident that got us killed. But I

demanded of myself that I quit thinking of us as dead, and that the first thing I should do is trying to take some responsibility. "Listen, Dude, it was my

fault-" "Hello!" A voice said. I would have jumped at the sudden voice, but I was too tired. I think that Dude was as well. "Huh? We're victims of a car

accident, do you really think that _hello_ is the right greeting here?" He asked. The voice gave a little _oh, _and I would have as well; it seemed that I was

not the only one trying to deny what seemed fairly inevitable. "About that... nevermind! Don't speak. You need to answer some questions." The voice

said. "Sounds like our teacher." I said. At least this appeared to be an assessment of sorts, something an E.M.T would do. After a short silence, the

voice asked, "How do you treat your friends?" The silence, oddly, was still the only thing in the room. The voice seemed more personal than I

previously expected. "I treat them kindly," I responded, "but I think that's a little irrelevant. Uh, I have this pain in my shoulder-" "What are your

interests?" The voice interrupted. This started to get a little ridiculous at this point, and the aggravation helped me get through the fact that there was

no way an E.M.T would behave like this. "I like to do things quickly, so anything fast and quick. Seriously though, what kind of assessment is this? My

personality is the last thing I'm worried about now." The voice sighed. "Sorry. Do you describe yourself as funny?" It asked. Dude's reaction to

my _would you rather _humor definitely put me down in that regard. "Not as funny as Dude," I quickly admitted "What kind of people do you like?" It

asked. "I like people who can keep up," I said. "If you see someone injured on the ground, what do you do?" The voice asked. "I stop what I'm doing

and help right away, no matter how important what I was doing before is. Unless, you know, I'm saving another injured person. Then I'd be pretty

conflicted," I admitted. "Are you a boy or a girl?" It questioned. "Girl." I responded. The voice gave a small gasp of surprise. "But I thought" "No, I'm a

guy. I was just testing if you were asking questions you already knew the answer to. What a waste of time." That helped bring the omniscient being

down a rung. Then it occurred to me that I could be back talking a deity, so I quickly shut up and did not follow through. The voice processed either my

last insult or the questions as a whole before speaking again. "Okay! You will be the rash type. You go quickly, live life quickly. You should sometimes

slow down and take a look at things. You go so fast and make such rushed decisions that sometimes nobody knows what you're thinking. So a rash

person like you would be a Mudkip!" I was taken aback. "What did you just call me?" The voice tripped over its words for a few moments before finally

arriving at "Oh no, oh no! It's a good thing, I promise! You'll be meeting someone at your destination, but it is up to you how you interact with them."

This made me suspicious, and I began to suspect that I was in a transition. "What's your recommendation?" I cautioned, slowly pronouncing myself.

Silence. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you could be their friend." On that note, the darkness was back, and no matter what came from the crash, I found

myself horribly stuck in its consequences.

/

Enjoy, thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3 Where are we

I woke up breathless, like I just ran a marathon. The marathon must have ended with a sharp drop off of a cliff, because my body hurt so badly that it

was getting difficult to hold back tears. I sluggishly tried to open my eyes, but soon closed them at the blinding light of the sun. Whatever I did to get

into this situation, I've really made sure that it left me as uncomfortable as possible, but that is all I knew about that. Though it seemed more

dreamlike than real, I recall seeing a colossal flash of light, feeling intense heat, hearing shatters of glass that soon pelted my skin with wet little slices.

That was just an old nightmare though, back when I was ten; a marathon of "Star Trek" once had me dreaming that I was stuck in a malfunctioning

warp drive- that I was mercilessly sucked up into space until I was just tiny particles of light, or as Bland would call them, "photons". I missed him right

then, since all the facts were coming together to say a single thing: _you are dead._ It is possible that I am on the side of some road, I supposed, but

what kind of amnesia worked only partially? The process of my life cuts out after my tenth birthday... if I was ever older than ten, it'd be a surprise to

me. I couldn't remember my family, if my family was still living. Sometimes a memory of driving, or seeing Bland in a small room would arise, but we

looked so young, as if someone altered my mind to make everyone seem like a kid. Like I never grew up even though I know I did. The silver lining is

what I did remember. My friend's nickname being Bland is one thing, and that he is a close friend is another. And under just a thin layer of my foggy

mind, was this feeling that he too got caught in the malfunctioning warp drive. So with that (and not much else) on my mind, I finally decide to get up

and experience heaven, or purgatory, or whatever it is. The sun is still bright, but I manage to roll my aching body up and my head away from its

blinding light. The surrounding sunlight, however, still stung my eyes, which were closed for who knows how long of a time. It took some time before

my eyes had adjusted enough that I could open my eyes and stand up. Something was up. Or maybe it was the fact that I was down. Down on all

fours, and unable to get on my own two feet even if I tried. Slowly, anxiously, I turned my head away from the grass as my eyes finally refocused. And

I saw padded, clawed paws, and another set behind them. Humans didn't have hind legs, and they definitely didn't have tails or walked around covered

in fur. You could take away my sense of balance, sure- I didn't use it much anyway- and you could tamper with my head, but this crossed a line. I

wasn't a dog! But dogs didn't have such sharp claws... it was infuriating and embarrassing. I felt like I should be blowing houses down with a huff and a

puff. I started to pace, caught in full panic-mode. "How!? Who!? _Why_!?" I cried out, shocked. still pacing around like a maniac. With this far-too-perfect

meadow with shining grass and too-bright flowers as my sounding board, I began to rant. "Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of trick or

something? Am I getting punked? Haha! You can come out now everyone, I figured it out! Come out and _turn me back into a damned _

_human!_ Whoever did this must think that they are _so-o-oo_funny. Did you drug me? Am I hallucinating? Bring it on, I got imaginary claws and I'm not

afraid to- _ah!_" Groaning in a patch of tall grass, there was another creature. Seeing it on the outside made the prospect of my transformation a

little more scary. It was blue, four-legged like me, and had some fins, like a fish out of water. As it got up to its feet, It also seemed unable to walk on

two legs, or stand on two legs, much like I was. I couldn't explain it, but the creature seemed familiar. A little desperate, I went out on a limb on who it

might be- considering I only remembered one person, it wasn't hard to eliminate possibilities. I scampered towards the blue creature in a kind of

awkward stumble that looked straight out of something from _Thriller_. The small blue creature frowned at me, just as upset as I was that there were

beasts about. I asked him pleadingly: "Bland, is that you?" The blue creature slowly opened its eyes just to shut them again, since it too was blinded by

this absurdly bright sun. After another second, it finally squinted at me. "Huh! Dude, is that you?" It asked in response. "Does a monkey eat rocks?" I

joked, not really understanding what that meant. I was too excited to know that I was not alone in this huge mess. "I think only one person would

purposely make a bad joke like that, it is you!" He yelled happily. "God, this is so embarrassing... what did we do last night? Man... don't get offended,

but you appear to _be_ a rock-eating monkey. No one is around, right? I can't stop crawling around on the ground to save my life." Steeling myself for

the coming reaction, I breathed in deeply. "Bland, open your eyes, something is wrong," I said. Squinting his eyes, he adjusted them and looked

around. When he finally saw that I wasn't the only rock-eating monkey, he jumped, and started to breathe shallowly. "We aren't in Kansas anymore."

I joked, not understanding it at all why I was finding our predicament so hilarious. Bland, however, surprised me by relaxing and giving a slight chuckle.

Desperately trying to not to panic, our small chuckles became heaving guffaws about not being in Kansas. "Why are you still laughing?!" I would cough

out between laughs, and he would then ask me the same thing- and so the laughing went on for another minute. The blue animal that is now Bland

stopped laughing suddenly. "Ugh, this isn't good." Bland said. "We may not be in Kansas, but we sure as hell aren't in Wonderland." I tried to start

laughing again, but Bland gave me a disapproving look. "This is not good at all, Dude. This isn't natural, and we have no clue about how to remediate

our... bodies." I nodded seriously. "Yes. We don't even have a clue who we are." He shook his head. "No. We remember that we're friends. For now,

however, that's all we really have between life and death right now." I shook my head again in agreement, and gave a sigh of relief- Bland didn't think

that we died. "So what should we do, then?" Bland asked. "First we figure out what memories we have, then we figure out why and how we got here."

I answered. "I remember a bright flash and a lot of heat, I also remember traveling very fast." I said. He gave me a quizzical look. "Have you been

watching Star Trek again?" It was my turn to shoot out a disapproving glare. "Shut up." The blue brat grinned coyly, and for another moment

everything seemed just fine in this strange place. "Sorry," he said. "I remember a large storm, and a large crash and crunching along with some

cracking of metal. So we were going fast, we hit something bright and hot, and ended up here," he concluded. "Interesting, but not really useful. How

do you think we got here?" He asked me. I cleared my throat and breathed in. "In an unknown and fairly dangerous laboratory filled with the greatest,

maddest minds, surgeons illegally put our brains into a new species. A new species, designed to _kill_. The process was lethal to its subjects according to

other attempts, but we only lost most of our memories in the transition. We were lucky. Or maybe... we were chosen." I waited a moment for Bland to

shut me up, but he didn't, and I started really getting into this being the right answer. "But there was a problem with the mad surgeons' plan: they did

not expect any of their numbers to have..._compassion_. A surgeon, pitying our sadness, called the came and stopped it... but the surgeon did not

mention us, because he knew it would be a life of shame and intolerance. He put us back in the most natural habitat he could think of, hoping

unreasonably that we could survive," I finished. Bland nodded eagerly. It made me realize how desperate we really were, to see _Bland_ of all people

going along with this. "The lab," he added excitedly, "uh, it was, uh, in a volcano! Right! And he must have actually hypnotized us, though. Or gave us

a single mission: destroy the laboratory. It is us against an army of corrupt doctors and scientists, Dude! That's all..." He looked down and tears welled

up in his eyes. "I'm an idiot. Maybe... maybe it is all a dream. and we can just wake up once we realize it, you know?" My muscles screamed in agony

for a while before I opened my eyes and had them too throb painfully under the sun. "It can't be," I told him regretfully, "I felt pain, I don't think you

can feel pain in dreams. "I have to say, though I don't think your theory is correct either," Bland said quietly. " I know that we have each other, and

we can find our way as long as we stick together, right?" I reasoned, trying to motivate the both of us from our depressed and confused states. Bland

sighed. "I just want to go home. Wherever home is..." We sat there silently, brooding over a homesickness that was directed to no home we knew of.

Time went on, and it seemed as though we would... could never move again. A slight cough sounded from a short distance away, and my body shocked

me with its speedy reaction. I winced at the sickening feeling of my claws jutting out an inch forward, and worried about the implications. We went wild

the moment that cough sounded; Bland even swooped down and started _growling_. The creature who coughed looked like someone left their sprinkler

on a little too long. It wasn't remotely human-like, sadly, other than the fearfully timid expression on his wide face. A green bulb jutted from his back,

like he was a portable flower, and he looked far heavier and thicker than the two of us. It cocked its head to the side, recovering from out crazed

reactions. "O-oh," he stammered, "I'm sorry to interrupt you." What he interrupted us from, I had no clue. After another moment of silence, Bland and

I found out: "That was a fantastic performance. Is that the end of Act 1?"

/

This is chapter three of ?. I don't know how long it will be, but it seems that bland is taking a sort of vacation. He can read the docx, but he doesn't

seem to be responding to the PM's that I keep sending him. Bland, where ever you are, speak to me! Ugh. Misterbland1 wrote the longest one-shot

on fanfiction. With 180k words, I don't know how long it would be until he is dethroned as the longest one-shot writer. I'm sorry if it looks bad, I can't

get the spacing to work right (Or well enough at least.)


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